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Monday, February 12, 2018
Open Letter to my Dad
February 10, 2018
Last night I dreamed about my Dad. It was a peculiar dream- I certainly felt him attempting to communicate with me. I did what I could to be as receptive as possible- as lucid as I could be. During the dream there was a moment when I was at the door of a house that was the home of a family member in my childhood. I was FILLED with fear. I did NOT want to explore the house. I did not want to see what was in the house. I was afraid of the painful memories that would arise. It was as if I already knew what I would see but I did not want to look at it.
In the dream my father was still alive but ill- just like at the end of his life where he had a short period(6 months) of illness and then passed away. Upon hearing he was terminally ill, I remember thinking it was too late to connect with him. I treated those days weeks and months as though this were true- that it was just too late. Now, more than a year after his passing, I feel completely the opposite. I find myself experiencing many new feelings and ideas about this that I never had before.
In this realm- earthly realm, Dad and I had trouble connecting. There were so many blockages to overcome when he married his second wife Jane. I cannot say for certain what and why. I cannot actually clarify it. It was an energetic blockage and it presented various material expressions. But the point of this article is not to analyze that condition of the past- I instead want to acknowledge my own feelings and emotions where it pertains to Dad and me and our connection.
Dear Dad,
In the years we had together from my childhood until you left us, I chose to always and only focus on the ways that we were similar and the same. I suppose I did that because I was afraid to recognize the truth of our differences. They scared me. My deepest insecurities were always rooted in whether or not you would love me. Was I good enough? Would you leave...all this because for me, Fathers are not promised.
My earliest memories of a father were that of Papa- shooting and farming with me from infancy. Papa was my hero. I never understood that he was a drunk. Losing him so young was devastating for me. Then you came along. I was so young that I never realized I wasn't actually your daughter until my baby sister was born and had the same last name as you and Mom. You quickly corrected that by adopting me. I was only 8 years old, but I can still remember the celebration dinner we had with Grammi and Gramps. Gramps was so proud to have me in his family and I felt it. Even now the picture in my mind of him sitting at the head of the table and everyone smiling at me and passing around my birth certificate...warms my heart. From that moment forward, I never doubted that I was a VanGyzen. I never doubted to whom I truly belonged.
Over the years of my childhood- the things we experienced together as a family, although wrought with difficulties and tragedies that some families never experience, confirmed to me that we were in fact family. I always did my best to listen to your input, suggestions and advice. You DID...for better or worse, become the voice inside of my head. When I search for that learned wisdom, I do not hear my mother, grandfather, grandmother or anyone else. I only ever hear you. For this reason, I am convinced that you and I have a better relationship with you on the otherside, than we ever did here in the last few years of your life.
I am sad that you will not be a part of so many things that are yet to come. But last night you and I explored some things together- your garage; your emotions; your desire to be on this journey with me and give me strength when I am weak. I am so glad that you have decided to be there for me. I need you more than ever now. I feel like I have been a child for 43 years of my life and now suddenly I am being asked to be the grown up one. Now I understand how scary that is...how terrified you probably felt when you were called to be that at such a young age.
Dad, somehow you always supported my decisions and my choices. That must have been hard for you. When I look back upon the times when I was caught up in an unhealthy life cycle, I imagine how I would feel if that were Annika and I were you. The truth is: It is her, and I am you. And I have all the answers you had -they are inside me now...maybe more, maybe less. The facts are that it is impossible to EVER have enough time to love them. There are NO WORDS that truly capture it. It is just a feeling you have. I have confidence beyond a doubt that Alex and Ani can feel how deeply I love them- right to their core, to their soul. The reason I am so certain is you.
Dad, I always have known how much you adored me. I am sorry that I never fought harder for our relationship when you were alive. I let insecurity push me away from you. But now I can see and feel that you were never far. You even sent me Jamie who is (frighteningly) your twin on this plane in nearly every way imaginable. And just as I ran away from you over and over to avoid having to acknowledge that you just loved me as I was in your own imperfect way, I do this to him as well. Ever since you left us (Jamie and I), we have both tried and struggled to allow that wound to heal.
I don't mean to sound selfish here, but why did you walk me down the aisle and give me away and then leave me so soon after? I never got to show you that I could be a good wife...I cannot ask you for advice on how to raise my son, or help my daughter be independent. You were wise Dad. And I still needed you, even though I was too proud to ever let you see that. So here I am now, just crying my eyes out over this letter to tell you that I still needed you. I'm sorry that I didn't give you more of a reason to stay.
The same week that I decided I would change my last name to Carroll, was the very week I heard you were terminally ill. It broke my heart and shattered me into a million pieces. I am not quite sure I have returned to any kind of normal yet. In fact, I think losing you changed me in profound ways that I still have not yet come to grips with...and possibly I never will. But your influence continues...it irks me and don't think I have not noticed. Lately I want to frolic in the snow. I want to snowboard, trek in the woods and even ski. I want to play golf. I want to eat foods and daydream and bond with my cat. I even want to hang upside down. Don't think I have not felt your presence there...that influence... you keep pushing.
I did hear you loud and clear that day you spoke to me when I was upset and troubled over Annika...I heard your message and your voice saying "It's not easy kid. I know it". I'm glad I got to be your kid for a little while dad. We had a lot of great years together. I miss you terribly. I wish you were here, and yes...I sang that just now when I typed it. Thanks for asking.
I love you. I miss your kisses and hugs. I miss your laugh. I miss seeing you happy and living life to the fullest in a way that only you could. Thank you for choosing to be my father. You were amazing at it.
Love,
Your Angel
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